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Black and White
Today, at the Decagon, there is a training seminar going on in one of the presentation rooms. It is dedicated to educating new police recruits about the various Enforcer protocols and how to apply them in responding to real life situations. It's been going for at least two cycles already. At the very moment, the instructor (Prowl, duh) is droning on over policies regarding the use of personal, non-state-issued weaponry. A holographic projector at the center of the room shows a list of criteria the weapon must fit. It musn't be larger than a certain size, it mustn't launch any physical projectiles (energy weapons only), it must have been purchased from state-approved manufacturers... "Field stripping and cleaning must be performed manually at least once every megacycle if it sees regular use. Regular use is defined as five or more discharges per solar cycle on average. Remember, please do not attempt to use the armory drones for cleaning your personally owned weaponry..." And on and on and on...the recruits look terribly bored. Some of them are staring blankly off into the distance, while others have their faces on the desks in front of them. Barricade is standing outside, waiting for Prowl to finish. Prowl is usually pretty good about keeping to a schedule, but making things interesting? Slag no. The only person that goes on this long about rules is Ultra Magnus, and Barricade has steered well clear of him because of it. He leans against the wall outside the door, arms folded, optics shuttered, going over various reports in his head. At least he has the decency not to barge in on the new trainees. After all, freeing them from the lecturing nightmare that is Prowl would be too -kind-. Yes, Ultra Magnus and Prowl share quite a few things in common. Such as their strict aherence to all rules, and strict lack of a sense of humor. However, Prowl is a prick in ways that Magnus would never dream of. The droning goes on for about another breem or so, before he finally brings that particular session to a close. Of course there are more to come. The cadets file out, looking relieved, and muttering their complaints. "...guy is so boring..." "When do we get to see some -real- action..." "...don't get why they won't let us in the simulators on our own time yet..." As for Prowl, he's still inside, gathering up his things and making sure everything is in proper order before he takes his own leave. Barricade takes that as his cue. He walks into the now empty lecture hall - empty save for Prowl. "Lemme guess: You had to break out the old black and white holovids for 'em. 'Your Weapon, Your Friend'." Tall and rough-looking, the Iaconian police officer works more on the streets than in the mechaforensics lab; while Prowl is busy going over every last part of a kill, Barricade spends his time chasing down speeders and handling hostage crisis. His track record for mission success is good, but the high rate of injury to his collars is a red flag that someone, somewhere, should have taken notice of. Prowl looks up from inspecting the room specifications as Barricade walks in. Though he hasn't really formally met the mech, he already has an idea of who he is. There is some...concern surrounding the guy's record. He examines him for a moment before replying. "No, I find that particular piece rather unnecessary and redundant for my purposes." He turns away momentarily to shut off the projector. "What is it you need, Barricade?" he asks, his voice polite and stoic. "Have you been to Kaon lately?" Barricade asks, leaning against a wall, folding his arms again. Prowl doesn't answer the question right away, instead, he replies with a question of his own. "Why do you ask?" "Well, you've stepped into Sentinel's old treads now that he's been made Prime. That means you're security chief for the whole planet," Barricade points out. "I'm wondering... you've done almost nothing apart from bein' a desk jockey your whole career. Bein' head of security enforcement means you're gonna have to understand what it takes to handle criminals from a hands-on perspective, too." Prowl listens to Barricade, his face unreadable. "Excellent observation." He replies, regarding the fact that he's now security chief. Whether that was sarcastic or not isn't immediately clear. "And what exactly are you suggesting?" There has to be a point to all this. Better be, anyway. "You didn't answer my question, /sir/," Barricade retorts. "I asked if you've been to Kaon lately." The response, while technically respectful, is bordering on insubordinate from tone alone. He's not in the mood to play games with Prowl, asking questions in circles as if this were an interrogation session. He came for answers, and he intends to have them. "And what, pray tell, does that exactly have to do with my recent appointment?" Prowl asks. He can tell Barricade is getting frustrated, and intends to test this guy's patience. Perhaps this is the reason for those... somewhat disturbing records of injuries among those apprehended by him. "Because I'm wondering if you're gonna continue the status quo there," Barricade asks, moving away from the wall now, standing up, and taking a step closer to Prowl. His arms fall to his sides. "I'm wonderin' if you've actually been where the riots are goin' on. I'm wonderin' if you've bothered to see -why- the miners are rising up, or if you're just pushing a pencil in your safe little office. Business as usual." "I know why the miners are rioting, Barricade. Sentinel Prime didn't put me in this position for no good reason. If he had, I wouldn't have accepted it." Prowl answers finally, walking over to the lecturer's podium and picking up a datapad. He starts organizing a roster, or perhaps he's taking note of Barricade's responses. "You still haven't told me exactly what you're trying to propose, here. Would you have me pay Kaon a visit myself?" "All right, tell me why the miners are rioting, /sir/," Barricade asks in response. If Prowl can play the 'I won't directly answer' game then so can Cade. "Because I'd like your official opinion on the matter before I give mine." "They're rioting because they don't like the fact that Decimus upgraded most of the mining outposts so that they won't require heavy laborers." Prowl states, looking up from the datapad. "Despite his promises of reassignment." And the point is? "And they aren't being reassigned," Barricade points out, somewhat incredulous at Prowl's lack of concern. "Does that not mean -anything- to you?" Lack of concern? Maybe...Prowl's face just doesn't betray any emotion whatsoever. "Patience, Barricade. These things take time. It's not as simple as you might think. These things must be done very carefully, so as not to disrupt the system. I regret that the former miners have had to wait so long, but unfortunately there is nothing I can do to expedite the process." He starts to walk past the other officer, toward the door. "Tell them that their patience in this matter is highly appreciated, if that would help." "Patience doesn't pay for fuel or maintenance," Barricade grumbles. "And it doesn't solve the real problem. These people are bein' pushed too hard -- pushed too -far-. Martial law isn't solving the problem, it's makin' it -worse-." He follows after Prowl as they exit the room. Prowl sighs. "I know it's hard for those workers to see beyond their own little worlds, so I understand their discontent; but there are much larger and more important variables in play, here. Where would we send them? For example, we can't just send them to the archives, Primus knows they wouldn't get along with -librarians-. Additionally they'd find that sort of work incredibly mundane. And they're too undisciplined for police or military work, as harsh as it sounds--but the riots are proof of that. Waste management? Even worse than mining, they'll riot even more. Do you see what I'm getting at? We just don't have the funds or resources to offer them additional training or physical reformatting. As I said, it's not so simple." "Then why did we automate the mining systems -at all-?" Barricade asks pointedly. He's no genius, but he's smart enough to have figured out that there's a rat(bat) somewhere in all this. "Efficiency, Barricade." Prowl answers. "We needed to make -something- more cost-effective. You can't exactly ignore the fact that an energon shortage is on the horizon, if not already here. Cybertron needed to find a way to pump out more energon at a lower price. Of course, something that drastic is never so easy. You just have to find the solution that's the most likely to be the -least- problematic. Those miners' jobs are a small sacrifice for what the entire planet so desperately needs." "Here's a thought: How about lettin' the miners choose their next jobs on their own? How about makin' sure the energon is evenly distributed instead of bein' stockpiled by a relative few?" Barricade suggests, growing more and more uneasy with Prowl's responses. At this point, Prowl finally shows a -little- emotion, turning toward Barricade with a bit of incredulity. "Illogical. How could you expect these uneducated workers to choose a proper function for themselves, when -educated- mechs haven't even yet managed it?" "It's better than letting them all succumb to fuel starvation while they wait for the paperwork to get done," Barricade retorts. "Or if you're big on efficiency, why not just set up one big abbatoir and run all the decommissioned mechs through them? You're just letting it happen on a slower time frame." "Better for them, perhaps. But for society as a whole? Definitely not." Prowl counters calmly. "You see, as you pointed out earlier, I'm security chief for the entire planet, just like Sentinel Prime is military commander for the entire planet, and the Senate governs the entire planet. That means people in our position have to consider the repercussions of every decision on our society as a whole, not just on the miners of Kaon, or on the librarians at Iacon." He sighs again. "Look, I know you're concerned, but just hold on a bit longer. We will get the situation worked out, all right?" Barricade's heard enough. He snorts derisively. "Which means that you're gonna do exactly what everyone else in your position has done: /Nothing/." "And while you ask everyone to be patient, more lives are gonna be lost, and the riots are gonna get worse. See, if there's anything I've learned on the streets, it's that when you see innocent people in danger, you stop the perpetrator -fast- and you stop them -hard-. That way no one else gets hurt waiting for things to get sorted out." He turns on his wheels to leave, stalking out angrily down the hall with one last bitter retort. "Maybe if you'd actually spent some time on the beat instead of pushin' a stylus at your desk, you'd know that already." Oh, Prowl's been on the streets, all right. Perhaps not as much as Barricade, but he's been there. Clearly the other officer hasn't been in a position like Prowl's before, either. If he had, he'd know it was more than 'stylus-pushing'. He doesn't follow Barricade, but as the other mech is walking away he comments, "Yes, fast and hard, you've certainly got -that- in subspace. Though you might be able to tone it down on the 'hard' part just a bit." With that, he turns and makes his way back to his office.